


Pain with Pleasure

by Birdie (Robin_Mask)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Caning, Fetish, Hand Jobs, Love Bites, M/M, Masochism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scars, Spanking, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:43:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Mask/pseuds/Birdie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter wants to try something new . . . </p><p>The marks bring him closer to Wade. The pain closer to pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pain with Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Response to an anonymous Tumblr request :)

# Pain with Pleasure

“You sure about this, Petey?”

Peter swallowed hard. The open fire warmed his skin, whilst the shag rug below felt rather comfortable on his bare flesh, and yet he couldn’t help but feel _exposed_. It was somehow both more embarrassing and more exciting to do this in the lounge, but Wade reassured him that they would need space for what was about to happen. He tried not to look at himself, instead he kept his eyes locked upon his lover’s, but he could _see_ how Wade stared at him so hungrily and so desperately, as well as the arousal in his eyes . . .

It was true that he felt rather nervous, as this was something he _never_ did with anyone else, but – at the same time – he _trusted_ his lover unconditionally. He could see how beautiful and handsome Wade looked, even if he couldn’t quite see it himself, and he _wanted_ that in a way that he could never otherwise express to the other man. He needed Wade to know that he wasn’t alone. He needed him to know that there was no shame in being scarred. He needed – most of all – to _feel_ some punishment, some pain . . . there was so much in his past for which he couldn’t forgive himself, and this felt like making amends in a small way.

“I – I’m sure,” whispered Peter.

Wade looked uncertain. He raised an eyebrow, before he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. A few flakes of skin fell with the touch, whilst a sore opened beneath his rough nails, and his scars and stretchmarks shone almost silver in the firelight, although they stood so prominent that Peter could see each and every one mapped over his body. There were some raised and thick, others like snaking lines barely a shade darker than his usual skin, and Peter wanted nothing more than to reach up and touch them, stroke them, _kiss_ them . . .

It was then that Wade gave a sigh and knelt down over him, with one leg on either side of his waist, and it was then that Peter reached up to let his fingertips stray over Wade’s skin, where he felt every callus and sore and scar, each with complete attention and awe. Wade wore them almost like badges of honour, despite the shame he felt about his condition. He never seemed to realise his total strength for enduring such daily pain, just as he never seemed to realise that he was still remarkably handsome with his hard muscles and built body, and Peter enjoyed how it also brought them together. The warm baths, the massages, the touches . . .

He felt Wade’s buttocks nestled right above his growing member, where he began to instinctively twitch and twist to get closer to his lover’s hole, and yet he knew that tonight was meant to be _more_ than that. Peter swallowed hard, as he instead pulled Wade down with a hand lightly around his neck, and kissed him deeply as possible. It was a gentle kiss and yet full of love, and he could taste something like cinnamon and sugar. Wade pulled away, as they gave a few parting pecks, and smiled warmly in response.

“You remember the safe-word and shit?”

“I – I remember,” said Peter. “I don’t – I don’t need it, though.”

“Yeah? I don’t give a flying fuck, sweetums,” replied Wade coldly. “You might not need that word, but I sure as shit do! People always think it’s the _dom_ that’s in charge, but it’s aint! It’s the sub that has all the power! I _love_ you, baby boy! I _trust_ you! If I accidentally go too far, it’ll fucking eat me up inside until I break! I’m trusting _you_ to tell me when it’s too much, to tell me to stop, to know you want this . . . you _need_ to remember the fucking rules!”

“I know, I know! It’s – er – ‘green’ for everything is okay, ‘yellow’ to slow down, and ‘red’ to stop and try something else. I say ‘cow’ for it to stop completely. I’m – I’m not allowed to lie to you about what’s too much, especially with the cane and the candles . . .”

“Good! You know what you’re consenting to, right? You want this?”

“I know what I’m consenting to, Wade, honestly . . .”

Wade looked somewhat confused. There were some unlit candles to Peter’s right, along with several types of canes that the guy in the shop recommended for ‘newcomers to the scene’, and Peter honestly felt that this was what he needed. If he were wrong, they just didn’t do it again or tried something else. Peter smiled and reached up to rub soothing patterns on Wade’s thighs, stopping just short of his crotch, and realised that the ‘aftercare’ might honestly have to focus just as much on Wade as himself . . . if not then more so.

“Then . . . _why_?” Wade asked. “Pain _sucks_!”

It was hard to hold back a laugh, as Peter looked up at those beautiful brown eyes. He let his eyes fall down and realised that Wade wasn’t even _remotely_ hard yet, which was somewhat worrying to Peter, especially as he didn’t want to do something that his partner wasn’t entirely comfortable in being a participant. The small member just _lay_ there on Peter’s stomach without any sign of life, almost like the ‘shrivelled hotdog’ that Peter once heard it referred to, but he knew just what amazing things his lover could do with his equipment, to the extent that Peter couldn’t _imagine_ a better sexual partner. Wade looked down nervously.

“No judgement or anything,” Wade added.

“I know pain sucks,” replied Peter. “It’s just what I _need_ right now. I want you to _mark_ me; I want to have a few marks like yours, so I can feel closer to you and feel like I belong to you. I hate my past . . . I hate that I have so much blood on my hands . . . if I hurt physically – even for just a moment – then I can feel like I’m making amends, I can distract myself from my grief, and I can feel closer to _you_ in the process. There’s no one else I’d trust with this.

“You say that you’re the one that has to trust and I’m the one with the power, but I think it’s more that we’re both equal in this, just . . . equal in different ways. Sure, I’m _letting_ you do this to me, just like I can _stop_ it with a single word, but I trust you enough to believe that I won’t _need_ that word. I trust you to know me well enough to make this work. You have the power to stop this, too, especially if you think I’m pushing myself past my limits, but I kind of _like_ that I’m handing you that kind of power. I spend my days working as a teacher and my nights as Spider-Man . . . my whole _life_ is defined by ‘responsibility’, for just once -!”

“You want to hand those reins to someone else?” Wade smiled proudly. “Aw, I feel honoured, baby boy! Yeah, I can get that! I used to be _way_ into the bondage and discipline scene, figured we could switch next time and you can take the dom role for that! It’s nice when someone else has the power . . . you feel _safe_. It’s like being a child again!”

“No responsibilities, no duties, no worries . . . just complete trust and unconditional love in another person, letting them take charge and knowing it’s for your benefit. Just the idea feels kind of _freeing_ , you know? I get to be closer to you for it, too. Just make it mark, okay?”

“Petey, I don’t know whether I can do this well. I ain’t made for ‘self-control’.”

“I trust you, I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise . . .”

Peter made to touch Wade’s length, but the older man stopped him. It was enough to get Peter’s full attention, as he looked up in fear that he crossed a line or did something to trigger his partner, but – luckily – Wade just smiled warmly and braced himself on all fours, before he gave a signal to Peter to turn over. The movement was uncomfortable; Peter was used to _seeing_ his lover when they were intimate, which was what this situation felt like, as the trust involved felt just as intimate as actual love-making. He wanted to see Wade.

The shag carpet felt nice beneath his bare body, especially as it seemed to tickle both his nipples and his hardening length, and he wriggled slightly to try and get some friction, until he felt a strong hand slap his buttock. He yelped in sharp pain. There was a throbbing sensation where Wade spanked him, as well as a warm feeling that was somehow both painful and pleasant, and he wriggled again to try and flex his buttocks, simply out of a desire to know how the skin would feel when moved, but Wade took it as a sign. Evidently the spanking was designed to get him to behave, and his movement was a clear defiance.

Wade slapped his behind again . . . and again . . . and again.

Peter wished he could see the skin, which was likely red and flushed and bruised, but he could feel the tingling and stinging clearly enough where he lay. The strange thing was that it made him _completely_ hard; he knew that he was at Wade’s mercy and now held a marking – however temporary – that was somewhat like his partner’s. It was nice to look like Wade, to share with him that pain and that visual reminder of the pain, and now his length was throbbing and straining against the rug. He wanted more. He _needed_ more.

“What if I can’t stop?” Wade asked.

Those rough and callused hands were now rubbing circles over his buttocks. They felt hot and soothing, a stark contrast to the pain and stinging sensation, and Peter moaned despite himself at the feeling of it all. He used his hands to grip the shag and turned to stare into the fire, where he felt almost hypnotised by the flames that crackled and danced under the chimney, and he gave another groan of pleasure and closed his eyes. It was a few minutes later that he felt Wade move back . . . he missed the contact, just as he missed the touches . . . it was then that Wade bit his right cheek and created a strangely painful love-bite.

“I was a mercenary,” he said. “What if I get bloodlust or somethin’?”

“That’s what the safe-word is for, right?” Peter felt those hands back upon him. “If you have any doubts at all, we don’t have to do this . . . I want you to feel comfortable, Wade. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay? I won’t mind. I love you.”

“Nah, I can do this. I want you to get what you need!”

“What I need is _you_ , nothing else.”

“Ha! So you say!”

It was then that Wade brought the cane down upon him. Peter didn’t even feel or hear him reach for it, nor did his spider-sense go off, and – as such – it was a total surprise and caught him off-guard. The pain was sharp and intense, rather red-hot against his back, and he almost feared that the blow was bleeding for a long moment, until Wade’s fingers traced the raised welt and no wet sensation followed, and then another blow hit. It was one after another after another, until Peter felt an exceptionally hard one and arched his back.

“Yellow,” he gasped.

He felt his erection rub against the rug with the movement, whilst a sense of absolute pride ran through his body, because he could _feel_ each bruise and welt and scratch against his skin, which even his healing factor would need a few days to get rid off. It felt _good_ to be marked. It felt good that he could carry around with him a piece of Wade for a few days, that people would _know_ he was taken should they see them, and that he could have a private secret to hide from people, something just between him and Wade. Still, the pain of that one blow overcame the pleasure just a little . . . he felt liquid run down his side . . .

“Shit, it’s bleeding,” muttered Wade.

Peter wanted to smile. In a strange way, he hoped it would scar, just so he could have a permanent reminder of their relationship and something to draw them closer, and – with every look in the mirror – he could smile and _see_ Wade behind him. He also knew that Wade loathed hurting those closest to him, as well as how he feared it more than anything, and – as such he would need to reassure him and reason with him. Wade was already placing kisses to the cut and licking up the blood, as he muttered apologies over and over under his breath.

“That’s fine, just avoid it with the wax,” said Peter.

“Guy said it’s a special wax,” mumbled Wade. “It won’t burn you. Well, it’ll _hurt_ , but it won’t leave blisters or scar or anything like that! If it does start doing that shit, you’ll tell me, right? I ain’t going to hurt my Petey-pie! Let’s go slow, okay?”

“Okay. I promise that I’ll tell you, if you go too far.”

“You better, else you’ll get another spanking.”

“That’s an incentive _to_ tell you?”

Wade gave a playful smack. It caused Peter to arch again and let out a yip of pleasure, as he felt the familiar sting, before Wade came down to press his chest flat against the wounds on Peter’s back, where the warmth was both a comfort and a pain. The urge to writhe was hard to fight, especially when Wade bit down hard on his earlobe. Peter whined and lifted his butt in order to get the friction he needed, although Wade still felt somewhat flaccid against him, which took away the edge of arousal he felt. He wanted Wade to enjoy this, too.

“Play nice, brat!” Wade chirped.

It was then that Wade moved slightly, as he reached across to take a candle from the selection of toys and lubricant laid out, and carefully he lit it and tossed the used match onto the fire, where it quickly burnt out of sight. There was a slight pause, where Wade appeared to take a moment to decide whether this was going to happen, before Peter finally felt the wax hit his skin, directly above one of the welts. He let out a long and heartfelt groan.

Wade traced patterns with the wax. Each one more intricate than the next, until Peter was _sure_ the heat of the wax would leave marks, no matter how temporary. He felt himself growing more and more aroused . . . he knew Wade wouldn’t judge him, but it embarrassed him nonetheless. It was so nice being completely under his lover’s control, to not have to worry about responsibility, and he felt so _free_ . . . he felt hot all over, whilst he began to pant and breathe rapidly, and he couldn’t help but thrust against the rug. He needed more. He needed Wade. It felt so good . . . so hot . . .

The wax trickled lower and lower, until it made patterns over his bruised buttocks, and soon he felt Wade reach out for different candles . . . for different colours . . . Wade was marking him with either words or pictures or abstract images . . . it felt as if he existed for Wade and beyond himself. He gripped hard at the shag rug, as he thrust his lips against it, and he felt both delirious and feverish. It was _so_ darned good! Wade made it so that his skin was something surreal and pained, which brought them closer than ever . . .

“You’re close, ain’t you?” Wade asked.

Peter tried to speak, but it came out as nothing but a mewled groan. He could feel his member hard and aching, enough that it throbbed and felt sore below, and yet he could feel himself leaking pre-come and the way the liquid beaded at the top. The pain hummed through every nerve, whilst the arousal found him panting on the floor like a dog in heat. He tried to roll over, but Wade smacked him hard upon his buttock and hissed at him to stay put, until a hand came underneath Peter and touched his length. The pleasure was instantaneous. He at once pushed himself up onto his hands and arched his back, as he groaned in a high pitch.

“Shit, you look fucking hot,” panted Wade.

It was enough for Peter to release. He threw back his head and gripped the shag until his fingernails dug into his palms, and the feeling of blood beading upon his hands gave an extra edge to his orgasm, as he let out a brutal scream. Wade continued to milk him and stroke him, even as his body felt alive with pleasure, until the thick ropes of come started to stop and his body felt too weak to hold him. Peter shivered through the aftershocks, before he began to grow soft and collapsed downwards. He panted for breath and smiled to himself.

Wade fell next to him and brought him into a hug, as he rolled Peter onto his side. It was hard to focus, especially when his body felt so light and relaxed, and he felt almost as if he were no longer in his body and instead something . . . _other_. He never felt high before, but this felt as if it could be just that. He hummed lowly to himself, as the sweat dripped over his body, and he felt Wade’s hands move to wipe the come from his stomach, followed by the sound of his lover licking the come off his fingers afterwards. There was a mumble of ‘sub-space’, before soft kisses were placed lazily over his neck. Peter moaned and let his hand rest on Wade’s, as he nuzzled back into the embrace. It felt all too perfect.

“You’re . . . you’re soft,” muttered Peter.

The soft chuckle from Wade reverberated through his chest, which moved Peter slightly with each sound and brought him to reality just slightly, although Wade’s soft strokes of his hair kept him floating in that wonderful place of complete bliss. He could barely feel the fire, but his back and buttocks felt aflame nonetheless, and he wriggled backwards to try and keep Wade’s body flush against his, until Wade hushed into his ear and moved closer.

“I told you this ain’t my scene, baby boy,” whispered Wade. “You want me to scream like that, I guess you could tie me down and let me wear that maid’s uniform I like. Still, that can wait until you’re less out of it. Got to say, you look pretty hot.”

“Thank you, Wade. I love you so much . . .”

“Love you too, sweetie.”


End file.
